


The Offer

by The_Weird_One_Won



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Business Deals, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, I Tried, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader is an artist, but that will eventually change ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), reader is as gender-neutral as possible???, reader is unnamed, reader more interested in friends than romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Weird_One_Won/pseuds/The_Weird_One_Won
Summary: You got into this academy on a Fine Art scholarship, and while you suppose it's helped, your goal is business. You decide to talk to the local business mongrel about a potential opportunity and you realize that you're getting more than you bargained for.





	The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> So I realized that I'm just gonna have like 5 stories running at once and that's just something I'll have to accept. If anything, it helps with feeling bad about going long periods of time without updating other fics for a loss of inspiration. So. Anyway, I hope you like! I've seen a great lack of Kyoya/reader fics on here, so I'm filling the gap, lmao.
> 
> Don't forget to check out my tumblr, too!  
> https://www.the-weird-one-won.tumblr.com

The first time you were in the Host Club, your friends had dragged you to visit. They thought it was the best thing in the world, but everything you’d heard about the past year you’d been here sounded overly pretentious and wasteful. I mean, come on, a club just for girls to gawk at some cute guys? It seemed like a lot of needless ego-stroking to you, but you had been feeling kinda down and they insisted that this was the way to help so you agreed on the condition that they would never drag you along again.

To everyone’s surprise, they didn’t have to.

It wasn’t like you went all the time, only occasionally when they invited you, but after you went the first time, you saw that it really was more than you thought. Everyone seemed so happy and content, and it was honestly pretty fun to see what kind of antics they got up to. And, to top it all off, your friends loved to pay for you to go. You were at Ouran Academy on a Fine Arts scholarship and, though you weren’t poor, your friends  _ did _ love spoiling you. You’d gotten to try so many new things since coming here, and even though you didn’t really like having other people pay for your stuff, you did appreciate it and all the new experiences it allowed you to have. 

Right now, though, you were waiting. You’d recently emailed Kyoya about working for the club and you had both planned to meet in the courtyard after school to discuss it. It seemed a bit odd to you, but you really wanted to be more involved with it for some reason. It made you happy to see so many others happy, and since you didn’t think you were really host material in any sense of the word, you’d decided to use your other skills to your advantage. 

You were sitting on a bench, scooching a leaf around on the wood beside you with your finger when you heard footsteps around the corner and sat up as straight as you could, hands crossed over the binder in your lap and feet a good 4 inches apart, just as you’d been taught by your mentor. She was nothing if not a good businessperson, and you were grateful for everything she’d taught you before she had to move away this spring. You were even wearing the good business suit that she’d bought you as a sort of “graduation” gift and you cherished it deeply. You received a few curious stares and… a rather ugly sneer since you didn’t have a way to carry around a spare change of clothes, but you were wearing it when you went to your scholarship interview and you liked to think it gave you some good luck.

The footsteps became louder as they closed in on you and you glanced at your watch: 4 pm, right on time. Kyoya, the owner of the footsteps as you had assumed, appeared from behind the corner and you stood to greet him, smoothly tucking your binder under your free hand while placing the other over your torso to bow in greeting. He returned the gesture and you motioned to the bench you had been sitting on, “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Mr. Ootori.”

“And you as well,” he sat on the bench after brushing away the leaf you had been playing with and you mirrored his pose: straight back, crossed hands, relaxed shoulders, and knees just slightly pointed towards him. “So, you said you had a proposal for me?”

You paused a beat to breathe and then nodded, “Yes, I do. I would like to work for the Host Club;” his eyebrows raised slightly, almost as if humored, but you weren’t done yet, “not as a host, but as an advertiser/designer.” Now he honestly looked a little surprised before he caught himself and gathered his composure.

“An advertiser?” he asked.

“Advertiser/designer,” you corrected. “I do believe I have the skills and the proper training to do so, and I could do it for much less than the advertising you currently employ.” You opened up the binder with you and held it carefully between the two of you, showing him your portfolio, “Feel free to look through, I have plenty to show.” He took the binder into his hands and started to flip through the pages, occasionally giving a small hum of approval. “As you can see, not only do I have plenty of traditional fine arts experience, I also have the technical knowledge of color and design theory and the ability to employ it in ways that will attract people of any class.”

He continued to look through your portfolio, then back at you, making you nervous, but you held your ground and sat a little straighter. “I feel as though this kind of work is far below your capabilities. You are here on the Fine Arts scholarship, after all. Isn’t this something reserved for those of a more lesser and abundant caliber?”

You shrugged one shoulder dismissively, “Perhaps, but it is something that I enjoy just as much as the other arts and it would be a way to make some money of my own. Besides, there are many extremely successful advertising companies making thousands a day; I’d hardly say it’s something below me.”

He glanced at you over the edge of his glasses and then closed the binder in his lap, “It’s an interesting offer, but I have a few questions for you.” You bowed your head politely and looked at him expectantly. “What are your rates?” You reached for the binder in his lap and opened up to the last page, just a few away from where he’d stopped, and pointed to the different lists printed there in nice, neat columns.

“I price a little differently by size, file, and media type, but all my prices are low to moderate compared to the rest of the market.” He scanned the page and nodded, mostly to himself, then snapped the binder shut.

“Good. Expected time tables?”

“Depending on the project, usually anywhere from 1 to 5 days.”

He nodded again and paused. “Well, you seem to have though a great deal about all this. Very thorough, I must say.”

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in what you hoped looked like a respectful nod at his praise.

“I just have one last question for you,” he leaned in on his elbows and you just barely leaned backward to maintain some semblance or professional distance, “why are you doing this?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“Why do you want to work for the Host Club? I’ve seen you around the club with some regulars, who I happen to know pay your way, so it’s not just a ploy to hang around--you have plenty of opportunities to do so on any other occasion.”

“Well,” you hadn’t expected this, so you pulled a little at your collar and straightened it to busy yourself while you thought of an answer, “the first time I came, I was thinking it would be… very different from what I got. I saw how happy everyone was, and I think I want to be a part of that. I’m no host, so I suppose the next best thing is to introduce people to it. I’m sure a lot of people assume it’s just a hook-up club like I did, but it’s a great place to make friends or just hang out with people who make you laugh.” You smiled a little as you spoke, then laughed, “Plus, it is a good way to make some future business connections.”

He leaned back and looked at you, considering your offer, but you had one more thing coming for him. “And, if you’re still unsure, I would like to offer one free session of design assessment. Bring me a few things you have in use--magazines, cd covers, flyers--and I can critique them and let you know if you should be using a different designer. I can even help you find another should you decide that you’d like to switch and don’t find my styles to your liking.”

He furrowed his brows, now really thinking about it. “It really is quite an interesting proposition.” He stood to his feet and straightened his tie, your portfolio still in his hand at his side, and you stood with him. He gestured to the binder, “May I keep this for a few days? I’d like to think about your offer.”

“Yes, of course. I’d like to get back in touch with you by the end of the week if that’s alright?” He nodded in his usual business-like manner and you returned it. “Wonderful, I look forward to hearing from you, Mr. Ootori.”

“I as well,” he said, then he turned on his heel and walked in the same direction he’d come and you watched him go until his footsteps had faded beyond your hearing before you let out a big breath. Wow, ok, that was actually kind of stressful. You had never really met him since he usually stayed near the back and your friends had a thing for Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, but you’d seen him around. You had no idea it was so unnerving to be around him when trying to impress him. He was just so… proper. You could hold your own when need be, but it seemed to come naturally for him.

You puffed out your cheeks a little and blew out another breath, trying to calm yourself and just realizing how naked you felt without your portfolio in your hands. Not like you always had it on you, but it was grounding while you had been waiting and it felt weird to not have it anymore. You picked up the leaf you had been playing with earlier and carried it gently in your hand while using the other to carry your books, deciding that now would be a good time to head home.

A few blocks away from the academy was a bus stop sitting in front of an office building. You looked at your watch and only just realized the whole “interview” had only lasted about 10 minutes. You usually caught the 3:30 bus, but now you’d have to walk home if you didn’t want to wait for the 4:30 one. You supposed you’d be spending the same amount of time for either of them, so you set your shoulders and started walking. It was a nicer day--sunny with a little breeze kicking up the few fallen leaves--and you smiled as you walked. You felt hopeful, after all. This could be a really good opportunity for you! True, you were very talented, but you didn’t think you’d be getting very much business from it. The only reason you were here was because your mentor had recommended you apply when she told you that she would be moving so you would still have a good teacher.

Your smile turned a little bittersweet at that thought, but you only made a not to send her a message about what you were doing. You hoped she would agree with you that it was a good business move. After all, the Host Club has members from many prominent families, and by getting in business with them, you could be setting up connections for years to come.

You crossed the street to the park and followed the path over the bridge, dropping the leaf in the water and watching it float down the path with a smile on your face in memory of your mentor. You should make something for her. Yeah, you think she’d like that. Maybe a little ceramic bowl this time?

You shook your head and continued on your way. Your street wasn’t too much farther than this, just past the grocery store and the tattoo parlor, then another left--no biggie. You waved at the local street kids running around with a dog and they smiled back, a few of them missing some baby teeth. You knew one of them was named Itsuki and watched him for his mother sometimes. He was sweet if not a bit of a trouble-maker. You giggled at the thought and walked up the steps to your apartment, fishing for your keys as you did. You unlocked your door and called out, but it seemed no one was home yet so you just locked it and went to your room to set your things down.

You were happy you were alone right now. It wasn’t nearly often enough that you were, so you always relished it. You laid your books on your desk and flopped face-first onto your mat. You had some homework, but that could wait for now. You were going to rest until your parents care home, and then you would go into “obedient child” mode until however long that was, and the cycle would repeat over and over indefinitely.

But now there was something to look forward to.

You smiled into the mattress and hoped that Kyoya-san got back to you soon.


End file.
